Blow Me Down by Katie MacAlister Page B

comes to shore every six months?”
    “No, no men, Jacks or otherwise. I had a husband. . . .”
    “Ah,” the ladies sighed, relieved.
    “Died, did he?” Red Beth asked.
    “No, actually, I divorced him several years ago. He was not at all husband material, but I was young and didn’t see that at first.”
    “Divorce?” Sly Jez looked to Renata, who was squinting into a rum barrel and muttering to herself.
    “It be somethin’ out of yer ken, lass,” Renata answered.
    “So you be havin’ no man now,” Sly Jez said slowly, her brow furrowed as she puzzled out the sad tangle of my life.
    “That’ll be hard, what with men in short supply. What the emerald mine don’t take, the sea does,” Suky said. The ladies nodded.
    “But what happened to the man ye had?” Jez asked.
    “Amicable divorce. Mostly amicable.” I gave one last sniff and told myself to get a grip. Self-pity was like tears—simply not productive.
    “Sounds painful,” Jez said. “Are ye lookin’ for a man, then?”
    “Well, not really looking . . .”
    “Of course she is,” Mags said, rolling her eyes. “But she’ll not be findin’ one here.”
    “Actually, I did meet a man here earlier.”
    “Oooooh,” said the chorus of women.
    “Fast worker,” Suky said, nodding her grudging approval.
    “Well, ye have to be, what with the few lads around here,” Mags said. The ladies—Renata excepted; she was still muttering at the rum barrel—sighed sadly.
    “So, who be the one who’s caught yer eye?” Sly Jez asked, taking a seat and adjusting her breasts. She was the only one who was still fully clothed, if you could call breasts straining to overflow her leather bodice clothed.
    “What are you doing?” I asked, momentarily distracted by her actions of plumping her breasts so the bodice was almost made moot. “Shouldn’t you be . . . you know . . . tucking them back in rather than bringing them out?”
    “I’m fluffin’ me cleavage,” she answered, looking down at her breasts in surprise. “Why would I want to hide ’em? ’Tis me best feature.”
    I looked at my breasts. Even lifted and separated as they’d never been before, they weren’t overflowing the confines of the bodice. I debated fluffing but passed on the idea since there was only so much madness I could stand in any one given moment. “Er . . . Corbin was the man I met.”
    The sound of a metal tankard hitting the wooden floor was the only sound in the room.
    “He seemed nice enough, once he got rid of his blond persona,” I added, still eyeing my modest bosomage. Maybe fluffing wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Every other woman here seemed to have desirable cleavage. I didn’t want to be left behind—good God, what was I thinking!
    “Corbin?” Sly Jez asked in a squeak.
    “Mmm?” I tried squeezing my arms together against my sides to see whether that gave me bonus bosom power.
    “Captain Corbin?”
    “Yes, he was a captain. I kind of liked him, after he got through doing the charmer bit.” I glanced speculatively at Jez’s cleavage. It couldn’t all be natural. Maybe she was lacing her bodice tighter than I was.
    “Black Corbin?” Red Beth asked.
    “I think so, although he was blond at first. But I like him better with the darker hair. He looked more real, you know? More . . . trustworthy.”
    “Black Corbin, the scourge of the Seventh Sea . . . trustworthy?” Suky choked.
    I looked up, finally becoming aware of the strained silence in the room. The ladies all wore looks of stunned disbelief. “Oh, he’s not as bad as all that. I’m sure most of that is just PR. He was actually quite nice when I won a ship off him. That bit about revenge was just his wounded male ego talking, I’m sure.”
    “Ye won a ship off . . . Reggie, did ye hear?” Red Beth turned to the madam. “She won a ship from Black Corbin!”
    Renata shot me a long look. “Aye, I heard.”
    “How’d ye be doin’ that, then?” Sly Jez asked.
    I gave up trying to